


The Top Shelf

by humongous_sheep



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: Cookies, F/M, Garcy Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Wyatt Logan's Bisexuality Crisis, also sass queen, six foot four puppy garcia flynn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-24
Updated: 2018-06-24
Packaged: 2019-05-28 02:12:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15038405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/humongous_sheep/pseuds/humongous_sheep
Summary: “I know you have’em”, Wyatt says, arms crossed. “I know you put the triple chocolate cookies on the top shelf. Again.”In which Flynn uses his abnormal height to 1) bully Wyatt and Rufus, and 2) make Lucy happy.This is Garcy fluff, nothing but fluff, with a touch of humour and Wyatt-Flynn sexual tension. But fluff is what I needed after the cancellation news. Will probably morph back into my angsty self in a couple of days, but in the meantime enjoy the tooth-rotting sweetness of it all.





	The Top Shelf

“I know you have’em”, Wyatt says, arms crossed. “I know you put the triple chocolate cookies on the top shelf. Again.”

Wyatt Logan, Delta Force, is using his strictest military posture, with a touch of Death Stare™, to seem taller and more intimidating. Yet the six-foot-four target of his haranguing just leans back against the fridge, chin down so that he can literally _look down_ on the little man, lips pursed in a mildly amused expression. The Croatian tree takes a deep breath and tilts his head, like the giant, murderous puppy he is known to be, and says, with a dramatic shrug: “And why on earth would I do that? Instead of, you know, asking the good Agent for a pack of my own, because she likes me?”

Rufus, next to Wyatt, butts in: “A), because you’re evil and enjoy watching us suffer almost as much as you enjoy murdering people, and B), the last I checked Agent Christopher was here at work and not in a padded cell, so no, no way she likes you.”

“What, it’s true. I am one of the few armed personnel around here to actually prioritize his damn job. Ergo, Agent Christopher would buy me cookies if I were childish enough to make such a fuss about them. Don’t you think, Master Sergeant?” During the last few words, Flynn leans a bit closer and winks the way that not only radiates arrogance, but also makes Wyatt question his sexuality just a little bit.

Wyatt’s nostrils flare, and if looks could kill… Rufus, ever the faithful friend, clears his throat and tries to come up with a way to let the soldier, wound tight as he is, walk away from this with at least a modicum of dignity. “C’mon, Flynn”, the Lifeboat pilot says, nodding his head sideways in his signature move. “Since we busted you out of prison–”

Shouldn’t have said that, Rufus realizes when Flynn’s smirk only widens. He pauses. “Since we busted you out of prison, which by the way I regret, all you’ve done is eat. And I get it, man - okay, no I don’t, because I’m not a terrorist so I haven’t been to solitary - but I get that after eating the same stuff behind bars for a while even your old tastebuds long to feel the sweetness of pancakes or kids’ breakfast cereal or _my_ goddamn Chocodiles. But you’ve got to draw the line somewhere.”

“Umm, no thank you, I live on _food_ , not whatever your Froot Loops or Chocodiles are made of. Besides, just because you can’t reach the box on the top shelf doesn’t mean there’s anything... incriminating in there.” He's enjoying this, the bastard.

Wyatt does a very judicious finger point: “Flynn, listen, if you–”

“If you really, really think I’m petty enough to go around stealing your cookies when I have work to do - y’know, just chasing-bad-guys-through-history stuff, don’t mind me, I’m sure Rittenhouse will wait - then why don’t you take that chair over here, climb up to the oh-so-magical top shelf, take the box, and see what’s in it?” Flynn holds his palms up, like he’s making a peace offering. But he knows just as well as Wyatt and Rufus that if these two thirds of the original Time Team do in fact go get that chair and the box turns out to have celery or rye crackers or anything other than triple chocolate cookies in it, Flynn will get the last laugh. Are Rufus and Wyatt prepared to risk it? They share sideways glances with each other, Rufus gives his best apologetic frown, and Wyatt takes a deep breath to hold together the ego that was just shattered into a million chocolate chip -sized pieces. Neither of them says anything.

“Well, I really must be going”, Flynn says, slowly rolling the _really_ off his tongue, sound by sound, and the hairs on the back of Wyatt's neck stand on end, “but don’t forget to inform Agent Christopher about your successful recon mission if you do locate the sweet, crumbly target after all.”

With that, and Wyatt’s murderous glare on his back, Flynn waves the time-traveller duo goodbye with more bravado than necessary, picks a book off the living room (living space?) table, and occupies the couch from one end to the other with his abnormally long legs. Eventually, the steam stops coming out of Wyatt’s ears, he and Rufus realize that Flynn is not going to leave the common area anytime soon, and they go quietly into their rooms to lick their wounds. One day, _one day,_ they will have a comeback ready, and it will be a comeback that this giant, troll-faced ex-terrorist will  _not_ just laugh at, but it is not this day.

It’s almost nine in the evening when Lucy, dressed in a battered old sweater, her hair drawn up in a messy bun, wanders into the common area with a notebook in hand. She spots Flynn on the couch, gets tea for herself, and walks over.

“Hey, uh, I needed to see you about– these”, she says, points at her notes. Before Lucy has finished her sentence, Flynn - the same man who hits his head on the tubes in the hallway and who has trouble finding clothes in every time period (including the present) - shifts the entirety of his legs off the couch and onto the table in an impressive display of agility. Without asking permission, or being asked to, Lucy takes her place next to him. He’s warmed up the couch very nicely, she thinks when she gives him her notebook to gawk at and leans to put her tea on the table, where she finds a half-empty packet of cookies. Triple chocolate. Her favourite. Actually, she doesn’t have a favourite per se, she just picks the ones with the most chocolate in them, but who cares, right?

Lucy leans back, munching on the world’s best unhealthy blob of fat and sugar, and hums contentedly, even though the notes she just gave Flynn are a whole lot of bad news. And Flynn… well, if Rufus and Wyatt saw how he looks at her, his favourite historian sitting next to him and just being happy, they’d think he’s hit his head, because he is _beaming_.


End file.
